


Incidents

by LaneyBoggs



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Loss of Virginity, May/December Relationship, Oral Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Sorry Not Sorry, Tentacles, Vaginal Sex, it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 21:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaneyBoggs/pseuds/LaneyBoggs
Summary: Mary Jane Watson is kidnapped yet again, but her captor doesn't stick to the usual script.





	Incidents

**Author's Note:**

> After Artifacts, I had to write this. I pulled in different characteristics for the characters from various Spider-Man comics and movie story-lines, so apologies if they're a bit OOC depending on your perspective.

Mary Jane was sick of being tied up.

It seemed like every other day there was yet another crazy, villainous type who would kidnap her in order to get to Spider-Man.

And, if she was being honest, she would have to admit that she was a little bit sick of Spider-Man, too.

Sure, Peter was still selfless and sweet and all of the things that had attracted her almost two years before. But, lately, things had been changing between them. As Spider-Man’s notoriety and popularity grew, he had been invited to more and more press conferences, city events, and parades. At first, Peter had been embarrassed about shooting fake webs at the mayor and posing for cheesy photos outside of middle schools. Mary Jane had laughed, encouraged him, and told him that the citizens of New York simply couldn’t get enough of their friendly neighborhood hero.

She had been proud.

But, as Peter had become more comfortable in the spotlight, her pride had started to sour into annoyance. Now, if the Green Goblin threatened to throw her from the top of a building, Spider-Man would come…but only after he had done a few stunts and put on a show of bravado for the news cameras. If Tony Stark temporarily went crazy and threatened to erase her from existence, Peter would milk it for all the drama it was worth.

That was easy to do, Mary Jane thought, if you weren’t the one with the existence-erasing death ray pointed at you.

And now, she was here, strapped to a table in Dr. Octavius’s laboratory. And Peter was nowhere in sight.

Mary Jane made a half-hearted attempt to struggle against her bonds. This little incident had been pretty standard. She and Peter had made a date at a coffee shop to talk about their relationship—and maybe, she hoped—finally talk about taking their relationship to the next level. It was all fine and good when they had been in high school and Peter had made his little speeches about her safety and security and secrecy and Spider-Man not becoming too attached to anyone, but they were almost twenty now. She was ready to stop playing the innocent high-schooler. And, judging from the number of times she had been kidnapped, she didn’t exactly think that Spider-Man had been too successful at hiding his feelings for her.

But, just as she had been getting ready to bring up the subject, the doors to the shop had burst open, and a long robotic arm had wrapped tightly around her waist. She had barely had time to sigh before she found herself being carried through the busy streets of Brooklyn and deposited on this uncomfortable table.  
She could hear Dr. Octavius moving around in the next room, his arms shifting as he worked on some grand experiment. Another death ray? A bomb? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out.

She felt a little bad for Dr. Octavius. She and Peter had started working as his interns during the beginning of their freshman year, and the doctor had certainly not been a villain then. He was kind, charming, funny, and Mary Jane had often found herself blushing when he praised one of her projects or thanked her for her help. As Peter had grown more distant, she had begun to indulge in little fantasies—silly ones involving her and her boss tangled on his desk, consumed with desire on the lab floor, pressed up against the cold, steel wall with only the flush of their bare skin for warmth.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end. A couple of months earlier, Dr. Octavius had decided to participate in a public demonstration of his new robotic tentacles—ideal, he had said, for disabled New Yorkers in a busy city. Mary Jane knew what had happened next. The demonstration had gone wrong, one point four gigawatts of electric current had pulsed through his being and, when he finally woke up, both his mind and body had changed. As it turned it, having a half-crazed scientist running around with robot tentacles fused to his body had not been a great help to disabled New Yorkers—or anyone else.

She had not spoken to Dr. Octavius since before the demonstration. Very few had. Luckily, the man had seemed more consumed with robbing banks than going on murderous rampages, and everyone had simply tried to stay out of his way and been secretly grateful that they hadn’t had another Norman Osbourne on their hands.

Being tied to a table, Mary Jane reflected, was better than being threatened with murder, but it still wasn’t great. She pulled again at the ropes that bound her hands, and a pained groan slipped from her lips as the rough edges dug into her wrists.

The noises in the other room stopped.

Mary Jane stiffened as she heard footsteps coming toward the doorway. Dr. Octavius hadn’t harmed her yet, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t if he wanted to.

“Mary Jane, what was that noise?”

She looked at him and flinched as she took in his full appearance. It had been difficult to see him as she had been carried high in his arms, but now she could see more clearly.

To say that his robotic arms looked menacing was an understatement. There were four of them, each roughly six feet long and half as thick as her torso. At the moment, they were poised idly above his shoulders, but Mary Jane knew they could crush her in an instant.

Even without the tentacles, Dr. Octavius would have looked fairly imposing. He was tall and strong, and his long overcoat gave him the appearance of being even stronger. Mary Jane noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt under the coat—was it for ease of access? Or the difficulty of finding a shirt loose enough to provide room for four monstrous appendages? Whatever the reason, she found that she didn’t mind. Her eyes unconsciously followed the hair that trailed down his abdomen, and the realization that she was looking made the tips of her ears burn. As she forced her eyes up to his face, she saw that his own eyes were following her gaze. Had he seen her look at him?

“MJ,” he asked again, “what was that noise?”

MJ. After he had heard Peter call her that one day in the lab, he had taken to using the nickname. She thought of her fantasies, of his low growl of her name at her neck, and she fought to keep the red at her ears from spreading across her face.

He was still handsome, even now, but she loved Peter. Cared about him. Wondered why he wasn’t here.

“I, um, was trying to loosen the ropes.” There was no use trying to lie.

“I see.” He studied the welts on her wrists. “I would have thought that Peter would be here by now.” He smirked at her furrowed brow. “I’m sorry, I meant Spider-Man. I don’t think I’m supposed to know his secret identity.” His voice took on a mocking tone at the words “secret identity,” and MJ dropped her eyes from his to keep the blush at bay.

“Yeah, me too,” she murmured. She felt his eyes on her.

“Perhaps we should check on his progress.” He lifted one robotic arm behind an old, dusty television in the corner of the room and, with a jolt of electricity, the local news channel sprang to life. As usual, the cameras were focused on Spider-Man, who was making a speech.

He was saying all the right things about how he was going to rescue the girl who had been taken hostage, and how he would put a stop to Doc Ock’s—thanks, Jonah Jameson—mysterious, evil plans once and for all. But MJ was more focused on the beautiful blonde who was looking up at him with awe. Every now and then, she would lean toward him, and Spider-Man’s voice seemed to get a bit deeper as the blonde moved closer to him. It was obvious that the speech wasn’t going to end any time soon.

MJ felt a swell of anger rising in her chest. This was what they had become? Her, in danger, humiliated, while he courted attention and an overly friendly fan?

Perhaps, she realized, he wasn’t as selfless as she thought.

She felt the doctor’s eyes on her as she struggled to keep her face impassive. Thankfully, his arm dropped away from the television, and both Peter and the blonde blinked away to black.

There was a short silence.

“You know, I never really understood what you saw in him.” Dr. Octavius’s voice was light. “I could see that self-absorption from a mile away.”

“You didn’t know him.” In spite of her anger, MJ felt the need to come to Peter’s defense.

“And you did?” He looked at her. “I always pictured you with someone smarter, kinder, more attentive, less attention-seeking—”

“This city would be nothing without him.” MJ’s eyes caught his chest again, and she unwillingly thought of the blonde fan. She struggled to keep the conviction in her voice, and looked at him pointedly.

“He’s a hero. He doesn’t rob banks and kidnap defenseless college students.”

Dr. Octavius merely looked amused. “Tell me, MJ, what do you think my mysterious evil plans are?”

“To destroy the city,” MJ replied immediately.

“And why would I want to do that? You’re very intelligent. Ask yourself exactly what I would stand to gain from destroying one of the biggest cities in the world? By killing anyone? There’s a reason that I focus on money and not murder.”

“I guess you might as well give me the full villainous monologue,” MJ sighed.

Doctor Octavius chuckled, and MJ couldn’t help but feel pleased. She pushed the feeling away as he continued.

“Very true. It may seem hard to believe, but I’m not actually interested in evil-doing. I rob banks—the money comes out of the accounts of people like Mr. Osbourne, of course—in order to obtain the funds I need to build something that might remove these rather cumbersome tentacles from my body. Having four extra arms is only so fun for so long. Then, I’d like to use the remaining money to go live somewhere where nobody knows me, where nobody will be pointing and glaring and chasing after Mr. Octopus.”

“Doctor Octopus,” MJ said automatically.

“Right.” He sighed. “So that brings us to our current situation.”

“Then why am I here?” MJ pulled against the ropes again, and her wrists prickled with pain. Dr. Octavius saw her wince. One robotic arm rose and loosened her restraints slightly, and MJ gasped at the feeling of the cold, almost soothing metal against her hot, irritated skin. She cast a wide-eyed look at her captor, and he smiled.

“Better, MJ?” He said her name in a way that made her stomach hitch—up against the wall, flush against him, begging—and she dropped her eyes to the floor.

“Well,” Dr. Octavius said after a pause, “I needed someone to lure Spider-Man here to witness my death. My staged, fake, dramatic death, of course. Peter would never stop trying to defeat me if he knew I was alive. I figure that we’ll fight, you’ll scream, and I’ll say all that devious stuff about ‘tearing the flesh from her bones’ and ‘I’m going to give MJ one hell of a time.’” He paused again, as if trying to gauge her reaction to the hypothetical “hell of a time,” and she forced herself not to look at him. She could hear the smile creep back into his voice.

“Anyway, I have no intention of hurting either of you. I’ll give him a few token scratches and bruises, fake some kind of controlled, fatal explosion, slip away in the aftermath, and then you can go home to kiss his scars and feed his ego.”

“Maybe, if that blonde girl doesn’t do it first.” MJ frowned, unable to contain her frustration. Peter still wasn’t here, probably wouldn’t be for a very long time. What was he doing while she lay here captive? Did he really even care?

“Maybe…and then what might you do, all tied up here alone?”

MJ could no longer make excuses for the light in his eyes and the invitation in his voice. It seemed to reach down all the way into her mind, into that dark place where she had fantasized about him before the accident. She felt it brush against the shadowed corner, where she had thought about him even after—once, maybe twice, no more. The thought of being suspended in his arms on the roof, high enough where nobody could hear, one metal tentacle playing under her skirt, his heated whisper that not even Spider-Man could save her now…

“I’m not alone,” she managed. “I guess I would stay here and…talk to you.” She finished lamely.

Dr. Octavius laughed. “You are not alone, and you are also most certainly not with someone who just wants to talk with you.” He moved a little bit closer, and MJ unconsciously leaned toward him. He studied her.

“You know, MJ, I always enjoyed working with you. You were always so intelligent, quick to support an experiment or diagnose a problem. You impressed me, made me laugh, always made me want to see you again. And, at a certain point, I realized that I wanted to see all of you. Touch all of you. Taste…” His voice tightened, and MJ felt her stomach hitch again, sparking something small and hot inside of her. She looked at the ceiling, unblinking, and he sighed softly.

“You were always with Peter. Loyal and kind and generous to him.” A cool brush of metal gently tilted her chin so he could look directly into her eyes. MJ froze, aware of what was coming next.

“But I always had the sense, MJ, that my attraction to you wasn’t one-sided. You were so eager to please, easy to fluster, quick to avert your eyes when I caught you looking at me.” He leaned down to place his lips to her ear. “Did you ever…fantasize about me?”

The blush at MJ’s ears broke free and rushed across her face. She knew he could see it, perhaps even feel it, and her knowledge was confirmed when he laughed.

“I suppose that answers my question. One more, only one.” His voice lowered.

“Did you ever fantasize about me after? Like this? The monster?”

MJ couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He knew, and she knew, and arguing about it would only prolong the inevitable.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His hand—his real one, warm and steady, rested lightly on her arm.

“What were they?”

She bit her lip, turned away. She couldn’t.

The flesh and the metal left her, and Dr. Octavius straightened.

“I’m not trying to upset you.” His face registered a soft concern, the same kind as when she had broken down the year before after a difficult, failed project. “I just…if I’m wrong…if we both…if you don’t…” For the first time, he seemed at a loss for words.

MJ thought about his concern. She thought about Peter. She thought of the worry and sleepless nights and every time she had been hurt and threatened and he had taken his time. She thought of him now, still probably making that same speech with that same other girl.

Then, she took a breath.

“You would, um, grab me and take me up to the roof where nobody would find us. And then you would force me to, um…”

The concern on her mentor’s face changed to hungry encouragement.

“What would I do, MJ? Would I run my hands through your hair? Would I let my arms slide up your body and cup your heaving breasts? Would I hold your ankles and wrists, lay you before me?”

His voice lowered.

“Would I force myself inside of you, filling you over and over as you bit your lip and tried to pretend that your cries were of suffering, not pleasure?”

MJ leaned toward him, as far as she could.

“Take me up to the roof, and I’ll show you.”

Then it was he who froze, for one brief moment.

And then the ropes were being snatched from her body, and four arms were desperately grabbing at her, catching her, lifting her up. She closed her eyes as the last two carried them over to the window ledge.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

There was a moment of weightlessness as he pulled her out of the window, scaled the three remaining floors, and lifted them both over the edge of the roof. He was eager, she knew, and those arms lowered her carefully but quickly onto the smooth, warm surface.

“Tell me, MJ,” he nearly pleaded.

MJ laughed, but it was cut short by a realization.

“Before we…”

“Yes?”

“I actually…”

“What is it?” That concern was back.

“I’m a virgin.” She couldn’t look at him.

There was another silence.

“You mean…” Dr. Octavius’s voice was low and strangled. “That you and him never once…”

“Yes.”

“Peter Parker,” he said shakily, “is a fool.”

“Yes,” she said again, and giggled, relieved. Her laughter sparked something within him, and he pulled himself above her, lowering his voice like a vaudeville villain.

“Well, Miss Watson, it looks like nobody can save you now—not even Spider-Man. And, now, I think you and I are going to get to know each other very well.”  
His eyes glittered in the darkness.

“We’re going to have one hell of a time.”

Then he was upon her, two arms catching her ankles, and two holding fast to her wrists. His warm hands brought her face to his, crushing his lips against hers.  
MJ arched upward as he bit her lip, and desperately forced herself as close to him as she could possibly get. He chuckled and tasted the full bow of her mouth, and she let him pass and allowed their tongues to dance as they savored one another. The hands cupping her cheeks moved to the fiery tangle of her hair, and one of the arms at her ankles began to slowly trace up her leg.

Dr. Octavius pulled back.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resisting?” he teased.

She blushed against and pushed against his body as the arm traveled up her torso to her shirt.

“Miss Watson,” he said in that vaudeville voice, “I do believe you’re getting rather warm. Let me help you cool off.”

The metal claws made short work of her blouse and bra, and she stilled as her breasts were exposed to him. Two arms found the swell of them, and MJ moaned as they began to idly caress her. The man on top of her grinned, and one hand slipped from her hair to the hard, blush-pink tip of her left breast, and she closed her eyes as his fingers began to stroke her there, too.

“You know, Miss Watson, I suppose there are advantages to having six arms.”

“Stop…” she groaned, playing her part. “If Peter found me…”

“I’m not concerned about that. I’m concerned with keeping myself amused.” He glanced at the goosebumps rising on her torso.

“On second thought, you may be getting too cold. What can I use to cover you?”

Her eyes were still closed, and a jolt ran through her body as his mouth caught her right breast. Her nipple pressed against his teeth.

“Open your eyes, Miss Watson.”

She obediently did, and saw his eyes flash. Then he bit her, sending her blush flooding across her chest.

She whimpered, needing more, and he ran his tongue against her, sucking her hard into his mouth.

“No…” she murmured, but she moved her body against his to confirm her false word. His hips moved against hers, and he lifted his head to catch her gaze.  
“This has been fun, Miss Watson, but I still seek my real prize.”

Without ceremony, the other arm at her ankle shot up, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and tore it away, tossing it aside with the remains of her blouse. Dr. Octavius found the edge of her underwear and began to pull them over her hips.

She struggled, pretending.

“No! Not this…”

“How will Spider-Man react when he realizes that I’ve stolen Mary Jane Watson’s virtue? When the evidence of your deflowering runs down your thighs and pools under your hips? Will he even want you?” His mouth was at her neck, and the white cotton around her legs was slipped from her feet and discarded.

“No…” Mary Jane whispered, pulling his hands higher. He shook his head and lowered himself until he was level with her hips, his eyes focused on the red curls spread between them.

“I guess this answers whether or not you’re a natural redhead.” He grinned again, and Mary Jane felt her fading flush inflame her face anew.

Dr. Octavius was moving his head down, looking at her slick folds. Was he looking for something?

“Where is Miss Watson hiding her little virgin pearl?” MJ’s eyes widened. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and she was calmed by the reassurance on his face.  
“I assure you, MJ, you will enjoy this, if you want me to continue.”

She nodded, her eyes still wide. His voice lowered again, almost to a growl.

“There now, I see it. Hesitant, halfway hard, almost as if it wanted to be found. But that’s not possible, is it, Miss Watson?” He paused.

“I say again, Peter Parker is a fool.”

She almost had time to answer before his lips met her skin.

She cried out then, for the first time, and drew in a breath as he coaxed that little part of her between his teeth and sucked, repeating the same pleasures he had given her breasts. He must have remembered, too, because two metallic hands rose to move against her chest.

The good doctor kept up his ministrations, pausing every now and then to taste her folds and kiss her thighs, and MJ felt the heat in her stomach begin to tighten.

“Yes…yes…don’t stop…” Her legs were freed, and she braced her legs against his shoulders as he held her knees apart.

She was so close, spinning tighter and tighter…

His mouth left her, and she whined in protest as he straightened. Her breath hitched when she saw him beginning to loosen his belt.

“It’s time to put away childish things, Miss Watson. Time for me to wrest away the last of your innocence, whether you wish it or not.” The arms freed him from the remains of his clothing, and MJ saw him, full and hard, before her.

He knelt to kiss her, and four arms wrapped reassuringly around her. The remaining two finally released her wrists and began to stroke her legs and abdomen.

“Dr. Octavius…”

“Otto,” he said firmly. “Silly name, but I think we’re on a first name basis, yes?” He gazed at her, a question in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said desperately. “Yes, I want…I want all of you.” Peter was but a distant memory, and this, right here, was real.  
“Okay,” he said softly. “Tell me when to stop.” He pushed her knees apart and guided himself to her entrance. Then he smiled at her wickedly.

“Miss Watson, I hope you enjoy your ravishment.”

He pushed into her, and MJ gasped as her walls stretched to accommodate him, bringing with him the quiet sting of womanhood. His hand found her clit and pulled at it with just the right amount of force.

“Miss Watson, you’re so very tight. Perhaps I can make you feel even tighter.”

He pushed fully into her, settling, and continued to stroke her as she adjusted.

“I didn’t feel resistance, Miss Watson. Are you lying about your purity?”

She thrust her hips against him, a small revenge, and he groaned.

“Christ, MJ, may I—”

“Not yet.” She thrust against him again, the sting almost entirely gone. “It still hurts a little bit,” she said softly, teasingly.

“I will genuinely tear the flesh from your bones,” he warned with a smile, and she thrust upward one more time, savoring the length of him.

“Okay, now is good,” she chirped, and he immediately thrust hard into her, causing them both to gasp. He buried his face in her neck.

“Christ…” he said again, and MJ stroked the trail of hair on his chest as she pushed against him again and again. Soon, she was already near, and her fingers moved to grip his shoulders.

“Otto, I’m…”

“Oh, god,” he responded. “Me, too, and we’ve barely even begun.”

His arms shifted to her back and guided her up and up top of him, and two hands moved her hips to show her how to move against him. She laughed.

“When I woke up this morning thinking about how much I needed a ride, this was not what I was thinking of.”

He laughed as his lips found hers. “I think my ride is almost over.” His hands desperately moved up and across her breasts, and she cried out again. A warning wave of pleasure swept through her body.

“Me, too, I…”

And then she was spinning out, gasping his name, as hers fell from his lips like a prayer. He filled her, slick and warm, and she continued to move against him as he softened. With a final gasp, he collapsed, holding her in his arms.

She looked up at the dark sky. “I…I can’t believe Peter’s not here yet,” was all she could manage.

He chuckled, but she heard the nervousness behind it. “Do you want him to come?”

She shook her head emphatically and kissed him deeply. “No, not now.”

He kissed her back, letting his lips linger. “Unfortunately, we should probably get back downstairs.” The nervousness in his voice had been replaced with a quiet triumph.

MJ snuggled against him, and thought of the ropes.

“I think Doc Ock takes Miss Watson back and has his way with her again,” she whispered. “Right as Peter walks in.”

Cool metal slipped lustfully around her waist.

“You think so?” He pulled them up and toward her back toward the edge of the roof. “Bound and everything?”

“Of course,” she replied. “And he uses all of his arms.” She glanced at him slyly, and the two of them laughed together as they slipped back down the side of the lab.

Maybe, Mary Jane thought, she could stand being tied up one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> Request, comment, condemn me to hell -- whatever you want.


End file.
